


Odysseus

by Chillary_from_Cartagena



Category: Political RPF - US 20th c., Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 03:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11820285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chillary_from_Cartagena/pseuds/Chillary_from_Cartagena
Summary: Coming back home has never been so sweet. (aka: some classy smut.)





	Odysseus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potus42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potus42/gifts), [Blush8657](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blush8657/gifts).



> Hello lovelies! Long time no see! I’ve been a bit busy and then a bit uninspired and then busy again and then it took me far longer then I had expected to write this, but here I am again! I hope you’ll forgive me and still read this story, despite my MIA status of late! I can’t promise any fixed timeline for the next one, but I hope you’ll wait for me and not forget me. I certainly love all my readers! <3  
> This work is dedicated to potus42 (she knows why) and to Blush8657, who was so sweet to encourage me and check on me during my absence.

Hillary approached the walk in closet of their bedroom: the clicking of her kitten heels muted by the carpet, she was able not to startle her husband who was still fussing about in there, nearly fifteen minutes after he’d said he would come to bed. And for what? - she thought. Even though he was a stylish man, it was not as if he had _that_ many garments to mix and match when choosing an outfit for the next day: “Just pick a suit, a white shirt, a decent tie and be done with it!” she annoyedly reasoned by herself.

The evening had started rather well: he had been able to come to the Residence earlier than usual and they had enjoyed a shared meal without interruptions, sadly a rare occasion in his line of work. Then followed quiet cuddles on the sofa while sipping a glass of wine, unwinding together and… let’s just say she had been under the impression that the evening could end equally well.

She had been waiting in bed for a while, and when she had realized _where_ he was and _what_ he was wasting his time - _their_ time- on, she had decided to do some mixing and matching of her own. A week ago she had bought a cute little lingerie set, expecting to use it on their anniversary, but since she had already a planned trip to Paris on her FLOTUS schedule some time in October, she figured she could always grab something else at a later date. She had a couple of trusted shops there she knew and frequented; they wouldn’t divulge anything she bought to the press. Besides, it was French lingerie, it was wonderful by definition and it wasn’t like Bill minded “repeat performances”, in the rare case - _of course_ \- that everything would come out of their _activities_ intact.

She took a moment to observe Bill fussing about with his suits: he had rolled up his sleeves and his hands were delicately skimming over the shoulderpad of one of the lined up jackets. His gaze was concentrated on the object: head cocked slightly, he was probably sizing up its color, but there was a sexiness to his pose, like the plasticity of a classical Greek statue, evident in the hand softly abandoned on the jacket. She observed his resting limb, taking in his long, elegant fingers, the prominent veins on the back of his hand guiding her gaze to his narrow wrist, the whole of his hand like a sexy picture of grace that elicited images of _where_ and _how_ she wanted them to touch her. Her stare rose to his forearms, bare, with sparse soft hair covering them, the angled elbow where the rolled up sleeve was trapped bent just perfectly so that the profile of his bicep on his arm became evident under the shirt cladding him. The quiet power they exuded was extremely erotic, like the rippling of muscles under the shining fur of a lion.

The sight of his wide shoulders stretching the shirt on the back made her quiver in anticipation. The idea of the spectacle the labored swell of his muscles and the rising of his scapulae would present to a hypothetical observer while Bill hovered over her, powerfully panting and rhythmically thrusting inside her in a display of raw energy, made her instantaneously wet. Her hands were itching for that sensation, to grip his hot and sweaty muscles once again, to plant her nails in his back at the height of pleasure, overwhelmed by sensation, all too much to bear alone.

And her gaze hadn’t yet travelled to the narrow indent of his waist: she couldn’t wait to hook her fingers in that belt, while looking hungrily at his crotch, thumbs caressing the buckle over and then undoing it while wetting her lips. She knew it would drive him wild.

This time around, though, she felt like she needed an entrance, to make her silver fox with the nicest ass in the country forget whatever nonsense he was fussing about in that goddamned closet and monopolize his attention in an instant. That’s why she had worn her new outfit: sheer, transparent black panties, with a wine-red trimming, paired up with over the knee tights, with a subtle border of the same deep red and a garter belt to keep them up, which hugged her flanks, sinfully highlighting her curves. The garter belt had burgundy trimmings as well, matching her panties, and thin black straps departing from it strained over her full thighs to keep the tights up, smooth and silky. When she was dressing up, her torso bent while trying to adjust the straps, she had pulled on one of them by accident and the prickling pain of its elastic snap had sent shivers down her spine. Right now she felt so deliciously naughty.

She had also donned a pair of long, black, lace opera gloves and, although the lingerie set also included a matching low cut bra, given how her husband was deeply concentrated on men’s clothing and completely ignoring her, she had decided to discard it and do some exploring of her own in his drawers. To her delight, she had found out that her memory served her well: Bill had a pair of deep burgundy suspenders that someone had gifted to him one Christmas and that matched her outfit perfectly. With a mischievous grin, she had triumphantly clutched her hand around that treasure and with a sparkle in her eye she had tucked the bra back in the lingerie closet, almost chuckling in satisfaction at her idea.

Now she was standing, all heels and curves, on the entrance of the walk in closet, with the same pair of wine red suspenders as the sole covering of her upper body, the elastic stretching over the curve of her breasts, their width just enough to cover her nipples and most of the areola of each breast.

Even the point where the suspenders crossed behind her, on her lower back, seemed to have been specifically designed to draw the gaze down her elegant back to where her waist cinched and her hips then flared again, the two dimples above her butt cheeks winking naughtily at the observer, before the focus switched to her mouthwatering sheer panties. She knew her assets and she knew how to move to valorize them, so with her hips swaying with sensuality and ease, the movements curving her figure and drawing stares to the garter belt, she entered the cabinet.

To her annoyance, Bill had heard her coming (she had made sure to rustle some shirts, since her heels were muted by the carpet), but hadn’t looked in her direction, continuing to focus, instead, on his fucking suits. She huffed intendedly, still not getting a raise out of him, so she looked at the ties, all neatly lined upright next to the entrance and she started to apparently rummage for something. Bill must have found the rustling odd, but he still didn’t look her way.

“What are you doing?”  
“I am looking for a tie. A tie that would go with these,” she said, pointing delicately at the suspenders. Bill finally looked up: after a split second of surprise, his eyes darkened with lust and he felt his immediate reaction to the beauty in front of him. Had it been any other circumstance, he would have thought she was dressed in all the wrong places, but the contrast of her delicate hands and arms wrapped in see through black gloves, the sanguine red of the thin strips of the suspenders barely covering her breasts and her creamy white skin made his blood boil in an instant.

Elegant and yet provocative: that was Hillary’s essence, after all. How could such a good girl by day overthrow all preconceptions about her by night? It was a trait of hers he was glad only a handful of people knew about: how much of a sensual being she was in real life, opposite to the image of a frigid, aloof woman people held of her. He was glad he had been the one to look where a lot of others didn’t, thus finding this treasure, a partner in work, politics, family… and of course in the bedroom. If only people knew…

He undid the second button of his shirt, because it was getting awfully hot in it and he licked his lips while drinking in her appearance. She excited and disarmed him at the same time: she was standing there, nonchalantly, like she considered his moment of stunned admiration as some sort of a nuisance, waiting for the moment he would finally snap out of his trance and follow her to the bedroom. Like she didn’t care he was trying so hard and was barely controlling the urge to reach for her, grab her, nuzzle, bite, lick, suck at the exposed valley of her breasts.

She knew how to push all his buttons and she didn’t get surprised at her powers anymore. She just knew she _could_.  
He was mesmerized by her confidence, mad and in awe of her at the same time. She could play him like a violin and he couldn’t help but respond, and although he thought it was eerie how well she could do this, he wouldn’t have been able to say no to her invitation, despite all of his willpower. Odysseus and the siren. The problem was that, unlike the hero, he wasn’t tied to a ship’s mast.

_Tied_ …well, that was an idea. Filing away the image of her feminine chest heaving and straining to rise against an elegant harness of rope for next time, he focused his attention back to the present and her eyes - as blue as an ocean in which he was drifting away once again. He really was a mariner of sorts.

They exchanged one of their intense looks of understanding, one of those that always left other people in the room puzzled when they caught them having entire conversations only by gazing in each other’s eyes, and they moved in unison to exit the cabinet. Hillary’s legs extended elegantly with every assured step she took towards the bed, closely followed by her husband, who kept at a distance to admire the swelling hills of her buttocks in their swinging motions. The top half of her peachy mounds was covered by lace, while the rest rose firmly underneath, full, pink and plump, almost inviting his bite.

She stopped at the side of the bed, her back still to him, waiting for his next move, crucial to determine how the rest of the evening would unravel. The silence was heavy, he could almost hear her breathing in anticipation. He kept at a distance and watched her elegant shoulders rise and fall. No wonder that black “cold shoulder” dress of hers had caused a frenzy the first time she had worn it: every inch of her was erotic in its own different way. He was lucky enough to get the whole picture, but he guessed that seeing a peek of what laid beneath and then being denied the full glory of her body must have been torture. No wonder those columnists wrote their hate pieces in dark basements, minutes after masturbating their frustration away.

She had a very sexy back, that she almost never exposed in dresses, so he took the time to appreciate the sight. The nape of her neck was peeking through her short bob, the strands of hair caressing it so softly while gleaming golden in the dim light of the lamp on the nightstand near her. The atmosphere was wonderful, with that only source of light in the room bright enough to see her clearly, but still enriching her voluptuous curves by adorning her curvaceous silhouette with a strong chiaroscuro. _“Master of light and shadow”_ Caravaggio would have approved.

Now with her head turned by three quarters, showing her delicate profile with her strong eyebrows, she was inviting him in, to step nearer, come and see, come and play, her invitation at the same time so pure and so indecent. This ethereal appearance and the wetness gleaming on her plump lower lip reminded him of Vermeer’s girl, this time without her iconic pearl earring. Never mind.

Her lobes were untouched, virgin: he liked to graze his teeth on them and tug gently at her lobe, in anticipation to the same sucking movements he would make on her labia. Not pierced by an ornament, but pierced by his teeth, her earlobes would receive those tantalizing prickles and send shivers down her spine, making her even more beautiful: her natural flush was the only jewel she needed on herself.  
Well, perhaps a pearl necklace of a _different_ kind… he almost chuckled as he savored the thought, then he came back to the present and he walked closer to her waiting form, slowly but decidedly, and he placed his large hands on the arms resting loosely at her sides.

He pressed down on her upper arms, grabbing them lightly enough not to be threatening, nevertheless showing her who was in charge here. It was costing him a lot of restraint to just grip there and not move lower, right to her perfect full breasts, that were now straining the elastic fabric of the suspenders with each rising movement brought by her quivering breaths, caused by his assertive proprietary grip.

He neared his face to the side of hers and with one hand he caressed a strand of hair behind the helix of her ear, continuing his touch by first trailing his fingers to follow the shell, then behind and down, ghosting over the nape of her neck with his fingertips, starting goosebumps that spread from her shoulders down her arms, bringing her nipples to an instant peak. Or so he imagined from experience, because the view of them was still impeded by the burgundy strips crossing her torso, although some dusky pink peaked through at the sides of them, almost as an invitation for him to uncover it all: _“Come and get you some of this - big boy”_ they seemed to suggest. Who would have thought she could be overdressed in that outfit.

He accosted his mouth to her ear and started to give her the tiniest kisses, alternated with nibbles and quick light pierces, using only one shining white canine, a quick indentation immediately erased by more sucking, everything accompanied by the low rumbling vibrations of approval he couldn’t help but produce while he laved her with attentions.

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you had in mind when you called me? I’m a busy man, you know?” he whispered in a decisive, seductive tone in her ear.  
“You shouldn’t waste so much time on clothing, _if you are so busy_ , then. You know I like you best when you’re naked” she rebuked fiercely.  
He chuckled at her pointed remark. Oh, how much he loved his little pepperpot of a wife.

“Should we start with you, then?” he inquired. While saying this, he slid one elegant finger under one of the straps of the suspenders, between the elastic and the white skin of her shoulder, then tugged upwards and released the garment with a snap. She hissed from the sting, showing her teeth and he jerked her head to the side, tightly gripping her scalp, brushing her hair away with his hand to expose her neck. He started to bite and suck at the juncture between neck and shoulder, humming against her skin. With his other hand he caressed her stomach, trailing to the side and gripping her lush curves, journeying up to her breasts while sliding his fingertips under the suspenders. The slow crawl of his hand was almost like a game… _itsy-bitsy spider_ …and he had trapped her in his web.

He cupped her breast and started to roll her pert nipple between index and thumb, tugging it to then grab a handful of her firm flesh again, this time rougher. She let out a quiet moan and enjoyed him pawing at her for a while longer, the call of all the arousal pooling in her panties so hard to resist.

She squared her shoulders, though: he had made her wait before, and so should she. Call it a little bit of payback, and it didn’t mean they couldn’t have fun in the process.  
“Well, Billy, I’ve take quite some time to select this outfit, I wouldn’t want the novelty of it all to be lost so soon,” she said, almost in a stern tone “go take a sit on the bed and then take a long, hard look, so you don’t forget it, alright?”  
“Is that an order?”  
“A strong suggestion”  
He chuckled and then kissed the side of her neck with his open mouth and proceeded to do as she’d told him, nevertheless muttering under his breath: “And I thought _I_ was the Commander in chief…”

She took a quick look at him and then nonchalantly quipped “you can unzip your pants”. He looked at her smugly, because he loved and hated at the same time how well she knew him: the night club scene had been an involuntary but prominent presence during his whole adolescence; being dragged by his mother to the Vapors and then exploring some of the forbidden thrill of other clubs alone had left a sort of imprint on him, so now he couldn’t quite help the sexual charge the spectacle of his peep-show wife was providing.

He didn’t try to further analyze her behavior, otherwise he’d get a headache trying to decide if he didn’t like her little manipulations or if he should be glad because she was providing _exactly_ the right kind of entertainment that pushed his buttons, while enjoying herself in the process.  
He undid his zip as she had instructed and then freed his aroused cock and gripped it in his elegant hand, giving it a shallow stroke and thumbing his slit where precum oozed, in order to circle it on his engorged tip.

She seemed momentarily mesmerized by the view herself, mouth unconsciously opening, pink tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth in approval, before closing her plump red lips again to wet them and swallow in anticipation. She nodded fractionally, as if she had acknowledged his acceptable response to her concession and then she deliberately turned around to present her back to him.

Yes, she rarely wore dressed that revealed it, but he found it very sexy: she liked swimming and she had practiced that activity with enough regularity that her muscles were nicely shaped. Add that to her ballet training as a child and later the posture lessons at Wellesley, and her spine had become like a drowsy snake, firmly stretched along her back, energy coiled and ready to snap, her scapulae twitching and rising as she slowly slid the suspenders down her shoulders and deliberately dropped them to flop at her sides, leaving her torso naked. Hypnotizing.

“ _Mah Gawd… I feel so cold now!_ ” she jokingly exclaimed in an exaggerated Southern accent made even sexier by the soft inflection of her voice, while she stole a glance back at him to check his reaction. He wanted to caress those soft cheeks, feel them warming up tinted to a blush by his touch. He wanted both to cradle her slightly shivering body against his hulking frame and to keep her quivering and vulnerable like this, to drag his lips with feather lightness up her back and just feel the goosebumps multiplying under his touch.

She slid her gloved hands down her sides, crossing them in front of her and reaching each flank with the opposite hand, so that the contrast between her pink flesh and her gloved hand made it seem like there was another elegantly clad woman holding his wife close, drawing her into a sensual embrace and caressing up and down her alabaster back. The hands were pulling and pawing at her skin, sinking lower into the dip of her waist, and he found himself envying them: he just wanted to touch her hips like those hands were allowed to do.

He didn’t even have to do anything, he just wanted to hold her hips, let Hillary feel the quiet steadying weight of his hands on her hipbones. He felt so starved for her touch all of a sudden, because she was so near, yet she felt so unreachable. He wanted her smell, the softness of her skin, so he couldn’t help but call “Hillary…” with a little hitch in his breath.

She heard his lustful but hushed tone and a rush of tenderness and desire flooded her: she didn’t waste any more time, she needed him as well, since she felt such a physical reaction to seeing him this near, yet so restrained. His hands, his eyes, his voice, his ruffled hair… there was so much to admire about her sexy Viking that she often got distracted during official functions, daydreaming as heat pooled between her legs while he gesticulated, imagining his long fingers wrapped around her body, cupping her breasts and sliding down her dips and curves.

She turned around, restraint and lust coloring her eyes a shade darker and she elegantly slid her gloves off with deliberate slowness, first one finger at the time and then in a fluid gesture she took them with a rustle. She also slid a shoe off and planted the little, elegant, point of her foot firmly on the bed near his spread thigh, this way opening access to her privates, placing her adorned panties directly in his line of sight, the other foot still firmly on the ground. He drew his lips in and bit on them; she felt like she wanted to ravage him instantaneously, because of the sexiness of that little habit of his, but she contented herself with running a hand through his gray hair, from the top of his head right down his sensitive neck, drawing approving low rumbles from his lips.

He slowly caressed her leg, stroking upwards, his hands easily sliding up the sheer stocking, the barrier so thin it didn’t dull any of the tantalizing sensation, and then he reached her soft exposed thigh, pale and beautiful next to the black of the straps of the garter belt. The image they painted together was so decadent, it could have been right from a fin de siècle French painting of the backstage of the Moulin Rouge. He was almost waiting for a glass of absinthe to pop up on his nightstand, as he hungrily admired her glistening folds through the transparent fabric of her panties.

He kissed the inside of her thigh, travelling upwards with his mouth, each sloppy smack bringing him closer to her sex. She kept on caressing the top and the side of his head, pressing down on him lightly and running her fingers through his mane in praise of his ministrations.

All the while, he periodically glanced at her, enjoying the sight of her looking at him with fierce tenderness and raw desire, feeling a rush of pride and protectiveness himself for his incredible mate, that made his heart swell and his spine stand straighter in delight. She was so fabulous: whenever he made an entrance at an official function with her arm looped around his elbow, he couldn’t help but puff his chest and cockily parade her around, making sure to shoot confrontational glances at every man staring too lustfully at her.

He wanted to pleasure her and make her lose her mind tonight, so he gave a long, sensual, open mouthed kiss to her sex through the thin fabric, his nostrils taking in that wonderful scent of hers, making him desire a real taste even more. He kept on drawing feather light patterns on her protruding hip bones, then smiling against her covered folds as she shivered and let out a choked “Please, Bill…”

“Now, now, baby girl,” he said, inching away from her pussy and leaning back to take in the few remaining clothes she still had on “you’re too innocent for your own good: bad girls wear their panties over the garter belt, not under… makes it so much easier to _play_ ” he said sexily in his rich drawl.

He ghosted the exposed inside of her leg with his fingertips, flicking the clip that kept up the stockings and leaning back, legs wide open and hard cock in his hand, to prepare for the little show he was about to request.  
“How about you unclip those and do a little strip tease for me, honey?”  
A mischievous flicker illuminated her eyes and she rebuked: “I think I can do far better than that, _Mister President…_ ” He was caught by surprise and that only heightened his anticipation, as he felt a twitch to his groin. He licked his lips and said ”Go ahead” in a decisive, although intrigued tone.

She kept her foot planted on the bed and reached down to caress her leg sensually, from ankle to thigh, fingers sliding effortlessly over the nylon of her black stockings. She then slid just the tip of her index under the strap of her garter belt and he expected her to open it, but she just let the elastic go so it slapped her thigh. She could see he was surprised, but still waiting for her to disrobe and she slid her hands further up, until they came to rest on the hip she had swung out, now jutting invitingly right in the direction of her husband.

“You see, Billy boy, you might have only met devils and angels, but there are also girls who are smart enough to hide in plain sight how naughty they are,” and as she pronounced these words, she deftly undid a knot masked among the frumpy lace adorning the edge of her panties, opening them on one side and sliding the two pieces of fabric from under the straps of the garter belt.

A new flash of pleasure gleamed in Bill’s eyes: he definitely approved of her choice and he was now inching closer to her sex once again. Looking up at her from his sitting position as she stroke his head and neck staring down at him, he asked, unconsciously wetting his lips: “May I?” while cradling her other hip in his big, warm hand.

“Yes”. Her voice smooth like fine whiskey provided him with a high more pleasurable than alcohol itself. He didn’t waste time and delicately completed his task. The straps of the garter belt still trapped the remains of her panties on, and he needed just a delicate tug to finally take them away from her, but he took his time to savor the moment. He took a big breath, inhaling her mouthwatering smell, then slid his fingertips down her mons and her slit, the pads of his fingers pressing teasingly, still not enough to stimulate her thoroughly.

The sight of his delicate, almost hesitant motion, awoke in her a deep low burning flame – a rippling waiting to become an inferno of sensations: when he pressed his open mouth to suck and devour her juicy folds, she could only throw her head back, filling the room with deep, sensual moans and needy pleas, while gripping handfuls of his gray hair and pressing her pelvis even more firmly against his mouth. He relished the taste, his mouth on her, her sex tender and filling like the firm pulp of a slobbery tropical fruit. He slid his hands so he could encircle her hips with his thumbs and index fingers, pressing her closer, his nose buried against her soft short curls, nuzzling on them as she ground her hips against him.

He enjoyed driving her into a frenzy and he could see she was starting to move faster, so he thought he would help her get better purchase. He slithered across the bed, changing positions from his seated spot on the side of the bed, to lie down on it, taking away the pillow under his head.

Sliding a little bit further down, he repositioned Hillary, whom he had dragged with him by the hips while he was moving, so that her opening hovered tantalizingly over his mouth and she could easily grind herself against him at the pace she preferred. She took the hint, but before starting again, she came down for a deep, heated kiss, her tongue tasting herself as it moved in the wet heat of his mouth, murmuring sweet endearments in between each sloppy kiss.

He helped his wife to go back in position and now she started to ride his face shamelessly, the rowing motions of her pelvis aided by her iron grip on the headboard she was clutching for dear life. His long licks, his insistent sucking and flicking of her clit, the bobbing of his head in counterpoint to her grinding, his lapping sounds and his firm grip on her ass, were sending her rapidly into overdrive.

She leaned back and gripped one ankle with her hand, while the other hand furiously rubbed her clit as Bill stretched his hands to pinch her now accessible nipples while playfully tugging with his mouth at her swollen labia, before starting to suck in earnest once again. She was close and she was rhythmically grinding against him, the strangled, gurgling sounds and his muffled intakes of breath pleasingly testifying all the effort he was putting into his delectable task.

The taste, the smell, the first row view of her red mouth opening in cries of pleasure as he sucked and flicked his tongue hard and fast, just to squeeze some more sensations out of her before the inevitable crush from her high, were marvelous. Her quivering chest arched in pleasure-filled spasms as she pushed her pussy right in his face, as he lapped her juices, now dripping and running in a rivulet down his chin. He kept on sucking till her body trembled and her high pitched screams came down to soft moans and she stopped withering over him, a low buzz now filling her ears and a lightheadedness taking over, prompting her to softly utter: “God, that was awesome… I… I need to lie down just a moment.”

He helped her to dismount him, holding her tightly as she was swaying in her descent to the mattress, her head still numbed by the deafening crash of the sensory overload he had just brought her to. He laid her down and turned sideways to cradle her profile in the crook of his neck, her small hand connecting to his chest like a lifeline, her mouth still softly parted as she rubbed her cheek tenderly against his shoulder in poistcoital bliss.

With a fingertip, he moved a strand of hair off her forehead and started to kiss her whole face; she smiled and exhaled a soft satisfied “Mmmh”, before opening her shining blue eyes and looking upon him. “So handsome,” she thought, as she took in his flushed cheeks, his glistening eyes still hazy from his unresolved arousal and the tousled hair she had messed up even more with her tugging. After all, there was a reason they called it sex hair, not only for what came before it, but also for the new images now flashing through her mind.

She started to kiss him back in earnest and whisper to him, letting him know how great it had been, how wet she got, how much she wanted to please him too, how she wanted more of him – all of him this time, pushing powerful strokes inside of her, now that she was so ready to be taken, now that she was so needy for his big cock.

She whispered some of these words in his ear, the tip of her tongue trailing its shell, while sneaking down a hand to give a couple of strokes to his manhood. His breath got labored, he was answering strangled “Yes” to her declarations and his Adam’s apple, bobbing in empty swallows, made her almost want to bite at his tender neck, because it was so alluring.

He had enveloped her in his long limbs, a hand behind her head to keep her close, his other one cupping and squeezing her ass to keep her pressed to him, close to where her hand was stimulating his cock. Every inch of contact was like iced water on a boil: necessary to get better, but still quite not stopping the ache, making it worse instead. He had to have he - he had to have her right now.

He grabbed tightly at her hips and rolled over, to have her straddle him. She was the picture of lasciviousness: tousled hair, flushed cheeks and chest, nipples standing proudly, breasts trembling with every shaky breath, undulating tantalizingly before his eyes.

And the rest of her… the rest of her was indescribable: the red and black garter belt still wound tightly around her hips, like a demarcation line, pointed out her tiny waist and her luscious curves, blooming into her full round ass now protruding sexily as she ground it dry humping lightly against him, head thrown back in ecstasy, the column of her neck bare and her legs open revealing the prettiest pink pussy he had ever seen in his life, glistening and ready.

He reached and got a pillow to throw under his head, so that he could keep this goddess right in his line of sight at every second, and then he ran his hands up her godly thick thighs, till he reached the apex of them. He then parted her folds to reveal her opening and thirstily stare: no matter how many times they had sex together, the discovery was always a moment to be savored with bated breath; he loved to touch her so intimately and his “Ohs” out of suspense first and then out of delighted approval at her delectable pussy, were always present, mixed with low rumblings he rolled around his tongue. It was like he couldn’t decide what to do, since she looked so good that if it were for him he would eat her again and again and again.

Noticing his mesmerized expression, she decided to spare him this impossible choice and put him out of his misery: she rose on her knees taking his thick, hot cock into her hand and she guided the tip to rest against her entrance.

“Do it in your own time” he said, soft voiced and with eyes full of love looking right inside her. She sinked a little bit further down, getting the bulbous tip to press more against her entrance and she crawled with her upper body to align with him.

She let her heart shaped ass rise and fall gingerly, but with a clear purpose, moving only with her lower half while she kept her back arched, working the curve of her spine while her breasts dangled in front of his eyes. With each downward movement she drew him in deeply and snugly, her eyes closed to savor the moment, a pant escaping her swollen, parted lips while her angelic face twisted in the throes of passion. An expression of bliss, mixed with the tiniest hint of pain was painted on her and he could only secretly rejoice in the idea of having somehow tempted a woman who seemed to pure to lose herself in the thick haze of lust, bringing him as the only testimony to her unbridled abandon.

He gripped her arms and snuck a hand to the nape of her neck, coaxing her to obediently lower her head to rest on his shoulder, while he laved his tongue at the column of her exposed neck that she was now so willingly presenting. Sucking on the sensitive spot he knew there, he fractionally sped up his thrusting, starting to pump up in counterpoint to her downward strokes. The truth was, she wanted him to take the lead, so she whispered her plea in between mewls of pleasure: “Take me harder Bill, please, mmmh… make me yours”. A fraction of a second, enough to whisper “I love you” and a mutual look of reassurance, were the only two signs needed for him to start to rhythmically rise his hips from the bed, slapping his pelvis hard against her to push his penis with passionate force into her depths, as he grabbed a hold of her majestic hips to aide her repeated descent on his cock.

She had stopped moving as he had started to make all of the work himself, but he quickly added a rowing motion to his pelvis, so he could brush against her sensitive G spot, forcing her to change the angle to get all of that delicious pressure. She would have gone insane with this kind of denial, his incredibly pleasurable pounding was leaving her just tethering on the edge, unresolved, so she had to rise again, throwing her head back while she rode him, presenting herself fully: white skin, pink flush, dusky nipples, his cock sliding easily in and out of her wet heat. A hazy overload of his senses at the sight pushed him to whisper a string of expletives, each one a poor approximation to the utter perfection of the mewling doll now bouncing on his cock.

Hillary was like a carnal nymph in a bacchanal, one of her hands pushing and scratching at his chest while the other brushed away sweaty strands of hair falling on her forehead as she impaled herself on his long, big, cock, drunk on pleasure.

He made sure to keep hitting that special spot with his movements and soon enough she felt another wave washing over her, prickling the short hair at the nape of her neck, sending tingles down her spine, making her stomach clench in a sensation like the delightful tug of a rollercoaster right before the nosedive and deep down she spiraled in her freefall, moaning incoherently, her eyes blinded by the searing white light of pure pleasure, brighter and brighter as her walls contracted around him.

He was almost toppling down into pleasure himself, he only managed to rise enough to grab her midsection, protrude his neck in a powerful spasm to latch his mouth around one nipple he started sucking on with his greedy mouth, and drag her weight right back on top of him. His face buried deep against her breasts, his nose delightfully squashed by the soft flesh of her tits, he dug his fingers in her back as he grabbed her hips to find purchase and slam his last thrusts into her, hard and fast, feeling the rush of his seed abandon his body in hot spurts, as she still withered over him in pleasure.

She felt his jerky movements suddenly come to a stop and she slumped on him, since she truly had no more energy left after her second shattering orgasm of the night. He squirmed from under her some time afterwards: although departure from this Earth by suffocating on her sweet breasts was on top of the list of accidental death scenarios (they felt magnificent this way, pressed fully against his face, almost sealing his mouth and nostrils with their compact weight) he mustered the last drop of energy in him to roll himself and Hillary over and position both of them sideways on the bed, face to face, foreheads lightly touching as they panted in their shared air. He gave the tiniest kisses to her closed eyelids and the tip of her nose, in a sweet display of awe and devotion and as he inched back from her face and saw the fluttering of her eyelids, suddenly opening to uncover the deep sapphire blue of her mesmerizing eyes, he felt complete, whole, at peace.

He could have kept looking at her for hours and she could have done the same: as their regular breathing pattern set in again, they kept their visual connection, silently baring their souls to each other, like they had done countless of times over the years.

Reaching a silent understanding, she scooted closer to be sheltered by his arms and she pressed her forehead against his chest. She could have sworn she had never felt safer than that, despite the lack of clothing and the deep slumber she felt coming onto her. Her other half was with her. All was well.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make authors happy! :D


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